


Can't Not

by dreadnot



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Domesticity, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadnot/pseuds/dreadnot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One corporation, ten floors of Candyland, two scientists, one Hulk, one hulking ego, and one extremely competent woman to wrangle them all. Domestic vignettes as Bruce gets to know Tony and Pepper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Followed Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing for slow burn, as can be seen in my fic in other fandoms. In this case, there's the existing relationship between Pepper and Tony. and I want to examine how what they have can expand to include both Bruce and the Other Guy. It will be slow, and the vignettes will be gen for quite a while before things start to come together.

“You hired a new physicist?”  
  
Bruce rubbed a hand over his face and tried not to eavesdrop, but Tony had parked him on a couch that seemed to be the target of the best acoustics on the floor. He thought he could hear a mouse sneeze three rooms over; the conversation between Tony and Pepper sounded as though they were sitting on either side of him on the couch.  
  
“I didn’t _hire_ a new physicist, I...” Bruce held his breath and waited to hear just how Tony was going to describe this. “...decided I needed a collaborator who could work on my level.”  
  
 _A collaborator on his level?_  
  
“He’s not on my level,” Tony added, his tone casually dismissive, “because there’s only one me or the world will spin off its axis, but he’s got potential. Read his file.”  
  
“I’ll read it later. If you need a physicist, you hire a physicist. It’s your–”  
  
“Pepper, read the file.”  
  
There was no sound of papers shuffling, no briefcase clasp opening. Tony probably just swiped a hand over his desk and poof, there the Hulk was in brilliant green technicolor, destroying heavy weapons, busting up Harlem, and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake that Bruce would never be able to make financial reparations for if he lived three lifetimes.  
  
He could picture it in loving, painful detail – the destruction, Pepper’s horrified response to seeing what the man in the other room was capable of. It made his stomach twist and his palms sweat. This had been a bad idea. He’d been swept into Tony Stark’s orbit in the heat of a tense, high-intensity couple of days, but there was no reason to pin any hopes for the future on Tony or Iron Man or Stark Industries.  
  
And Pepper Potts definitely hadn’t signed on to deal with a man whose bad days could cause damage in the multi-million dollar range.  
  
“I don’t think this–” he heard her start, and he waited for the voice of reason to prevail.  
  
“He saved my life. Look at this.” There was another pause, but the devil’s own acoustics brought him the sound of Pepper’s gasp and Tony’s laconic, “I don’t think that traffic camera caught my good side. JARVIS pulled it together from an ATM, a traffic camera, and First National Bank’s pigeon cam, but he couldn’t find an angle that got my good side when they got the mask off.”  
  
Bruce frowned and found himself leaning forward as though that would let him see whatever Tony was showing Pepper.  
  
“He’s just a big green softie,” Tony went on. “Look at that punum. So, can I keep him?”  
  
“You’re going to do it anyway,” Pepper said, but the fond exasperation in her tone made Bruce relax just a little. Tony just seemed to bring that out in some people – the ones with thick skins at least. “Do I need to get him an apartment in the city?”  
  
“Don’t bother,” Tony said airily. “He’s moving in here.” He didn’t even raise his voice when he added, “That’s okay with you, right, Bruce?”  
  
Bruce jumped guiltily and was on his feet by the time Tony came, equipped with a wicked grin, to introduce him to Miss Pepper Potts.


	2. Green eggs and...

If asked, Pepper could in complete honesty say that yes, she kept her own house. Her townhouse was elegant, beautifully decorated, and ultimately empty more nights than not. While her townhouse stood vacant, Stark Tower had become home.  
  
She had a bedroom of her own in the penthouse if she wanted to use it, and sometimes she did. Other mornings, like this one, she would wake in Tony’s bed – alone – and know that he was likely a few floors down in the labs channeling his boundless energy and brilliance into new creations. Maybe he was carrying on a one-sided conversation with his robots, maybe teaching JARVIS more sarcasm, or more commonly these days, spouting incomprehensible technobabble with his brain twin, Bruce. All to a background of blasting AC/DC to accompany the coffee he might as well be taking in by IV drip.  
  
It was all part of the Tony Stark Experience™, and Pepper had known exactly what she was getting herself into when she signed up for it.  
  
It was with that thought in mind and a smile on her lips that she found a pair of clean underwear in the “Pepper drawer,” pulled on one of Tony’s t-shirts, and headed for the door. “JARVIS?”  
  
“Yes, Miss Potts?” JARVIS was the ultimate domestic – everywhere and nowhere and probably even two places at once, tending to Tony while she asked him for insignificant tasks. “Start the coffee maker. I’ll have breakfast in today.”  
  
“I should inform you that–” JARVIS began as Pepper padded barefoot out of Tony’s bedroom. She was stretching the night’s stiffness out of her back, arms high over her head, when she caught sight of someone in what was supposed to be the empty kitchen. “–Dr. Banner is already making coffee.”  
  
Damned open floor plan.  
  
Bruce had caught sight of her and had frozen with two eggs in one hand and a block of cheese in the other. She thought he looked like a rabbit surprised by a fox until she saw his eyes drop down the length of her body and jerk back up to her face in one quick, guilty twitch.  
  
That one look made her drop her arms in a hurry and pull Tony’s t-shirt down to cover the tops of her thighs.  
  
“Pepper. Hi.” He turned away to set the eggs on the counter and fuss with unwrapping the cheese. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here. I would have told JARVIS to let you know I was in the kitchen.” He kept his attention on what he was doing, pointedly not looking up at her.  
  
“It’s okay.” It was, or at least it was okay enough, other than the fact that he now knew what color her underwear was. Dealing with Tony had long ago taught Pepper to take the unexpected in stride. “But why...”  
  
“Why am I here?” Bruce supplied for her. He cracked the eggs into a bowl. “Tony decided the kitchen in my apartment needed remodeling. I told him I’ve gotten by with a hot plate and a styrofoam cooler before, but...” He shrugged and set the egg shells aside.  
  
“But he already had the idea in his head and now your kitchen is a construction zone,” Pepper supplied for him.  
  
The corners of Bruce’s eyes crinkled with his smile. His smile was rare, but Pepper had learned that it came most often when talking about his work or about Tony. She knew the feeling.  
  
“Can I get you something to eat?” he asked.  “I’m already here.”  
  
“I’ll take whatever you’re having.” Pepper came around the bar into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee pot. “I was just coming for coffee.”  
  
“Um...” Bruce turned to face her. “That’s decaf.”  
  
Decaf.  
  
There was decaf in Tony’s kitchen.  
  
Pepper slowly turned on the ball of one foot to stare at Bruce. She knew her mouth was open, she knew that her eyebrows had shot up, she knew that she must look like a complete idiot, but she somehow could not incorporate that one little word into her particular reality.  
  
“Decaf...”  
  
That one word said that her world had shifted, but when Bruce dropped his eyes and rubbed a hand through his already-tousled hair, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it had been a bad shift. 


	3. Work of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How often does Bruce really get an up close look at the Other Guy?

He heard it the moment he opened the door to Tony’s apartment.  
  
 _I am a god, you dull creature, and I will not be bullied by – ah!_  
  
 _Wham._  
  
 _Wham wham._  
  
 _Wham wham._  
  
“Wait for it...” Bruce heard the glee in Tony’s voice and ran a hand through his hair. It was going to be one of those days. Okay, great.  
  
And then the words Tony had been anticipating. _“Puny god.”_  
  
Bruce sighed and came the rest of the way into the apartment, closing the door behind himself and quickly scanning the open great room for Pepper or anyone else Tony might be talking to.  
  
“I am brilliant,” Tony said, and Bruce had to smile, because the room was empty and he was talking to himself.  
  
“Yes, sir,” JARVIS said in his world-weary way. Bruce revised his thought; Tony wasn’t entirely talking to himself. Bruce had found JARVIS worryingly intelligent and more self-aware than some grad students he’d met. “Dr. Banner is here, sir.”  
  
Tony turned from his projection table to favor Bruce with a billion dollar smile. “Just the man I wanted to see.”  
  
At Tony’s back, Loki started his monologue again, _I am a god—_  
  
“Mute.” At Tony’s order, the rest of the littlest giant’s attempt to intimidate the Hulk went silent.  
  
Tony stood aside to give Bruce a full view of a two foot high, three-dimensional reenactment of the Hulk’s tete a tete with Loki. The two figures stood – and then flailed – on the tabletop before the Hulk turned to stalk out of the vignette. Bruce could see his lips move, mouthing _puny god._  
  
Despite all of Bruce’s many issues with his alter ego, the quip made him smile.  
  
There was a pause before the Hulk and Loki crashed into the simulation from the other side of the table. Bruce couldn’t remember the confrontation, but he had seen it replayed from Tony’s security footage often enough to know every movement by heart.  
  
This, though, was different. He was drawn to the table to watch the Hulk, circling to see the details before something caught his eye. “JARVIS, pause.”  
  
The scene froze with the Hulk mid-stride, his head turned to deliver his opinion of Loki’s godhood.  
  
“See now this,” Tony used his pen as a pointer to draw an invisible line from the Hulk’s head to his toes. “This is what I meant about learning to strut. The big guy’s got a future as a GQ model with that much swagger.”  
  
Bruce pulled his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket and slipped them on before leaning in to get a better look.  
  
“What are you seeing?” Tony came to stand beside him, leaning in to mirror Bruce’s posture even if he didn’t know what Bruce was looking at in particular. He was too close, his hip bumping Bruce’s as he leaned in, but that was just Tony and his complete disregard for personal space.  
  
“This.” Bruce pointed to a scar on the Hulk’s right cheek – just a small dimple on his broad face. “Chicken pox. I was eight.”  
  
He stared at that scar, feeling disconnected from reality, almost disconnected from his own body. He knew he was the Hulk. He knew that “the Other Guy” was nothing more than a false construct to let him keep some sense of self, but this... he touched the air over the scar before turning his attention to the Hulk’s chin.  
  
“And this.” He pointed to the thin line of another scar. “I was 14 and slipped on some ice, landed face first on a curb. Three stitches.”  
  
He’d seen pictures of the Hulk, video footage of the Hulk, but he had never before seen his alter ego in such intimate detail. It wasn’t as though the Other Guy liked to pose for the paparazzi.  
  
Tony gave the scene a spin with a flick of his hand in the air. “You could say JARVIS has an eye for detail. I was thinking about making a life-size reproduction and donating it to the Met as a kind of performance art exhibit. What do you think?”  
  
Bruce reached out his flattened palm and pushed the entire scene into the tabletop. “I don’t think I’m ready for that much strutting yet.”


End file.
